Tell the Story
by Enboumay
Summary: Miles helps Waylon escape. An interpretation of the ending of Whistleblower. Language.


I liked the ending of Whistleblower. I think that it closed the game out nicely and tied up quite a few loose ends. I just wanted to write out my interpretation of it, from both Waylon and Miles' perspectives.

I do not own Outlast.

* * *

Miles was unsure of himself. He knew that he was the host to the Walrider, would have had to have been exceptionally stupid to not realize it especially after Wernicke's outburst. But he was unsure nonetheless, because he had managed to control the Walrider. It had taken most of Murkoff's tactical team to learn how, but he was controlling it. And now, as he slowly made his way up through the levels to the Administration block, he pondered what this would mean for him.

He didn't have a family to go home to. He had been fired from his last job, and now was working independently, so no one was waiting for his story, no one was expecting him back in civilization at any point. He looked at the camcorder in his hands as he trudged further on, barely noticing the nano-swarm flickering around him. What to do with this thing now? The screen was cracked, the batteries were basically dead, but the memory card was still intact and therefore the would could still know the horrors that occurred here.

Miles reached the Administration block and could hear the low murmur of voices. He kept himself hidden, careful to assess the situation before announcing his presence. The Walrider was unhappy, but Miles bent the swarm to his will.

"...You help me, I'll help you." Miles heard someone say, but then was shocked to hear the _thoughts_ of that person. '_Just a little closer, c'mon, c'mon_...'

"Help me up, please..." '_Yes you bastard. Closer. Gotcha.'_ "Fucking DIE already!"

Miles watched as a man in a suit – _Jeremy Blaire_, a voice inside his head told him, though he had no idea where that thought came from – stabbed an inmate, who staggered backwards. A strong rush of hatred came from the Walrider, and at that instance, he knew everything – this was the man who had sentenced Billy to the horrors of the Engine, this was the man who did everything in his power to keep everything Murkoff had done under the radar, and he was attacking someone who just wanted out – _Waylon Park_, that same voice told him, _the one who got you here, he was concerned for the inmates_ – at that moment, everything rose up in him, and he gave the order -

"No one can know... No one..."

The Walrider responded to his commands with an inhuman glee, grabbing the man in the suit and ripping him apart from the inside out. The man in the inmate's outfit watched with a mixture of horror and satisfaction, feelings that Miles had felt during his time in Mount Massive as well.

Miles and the Walrider watched as Waylon staggered to his feet, camcorder dangling from his fingertips. Waylon looked around briefly before limping as quickly as his battered body would allow: out the door, down the stairs, towards the gates. Miles realized that his jeep was still there, and chuckled at the irony. He tried accessing the other man's thoughts, and found that he could. Waylon's thoughts were composed entirely of the mantra _get to the car, get out, get Lisa and the boys. Get to the car, get out_...

It was then that Miles understood something that he had been ignoring up to that point: there was no way he could leave. He had to stay here and protect the inmates that remained from Murkoff, scare away any executives, and help anyone sane that ended up here. He knew that once Waylon's story broke, curious explorers would come seeking adventure, and that was the last thing the patients needed, was the last thing that the adventure seekers would want – literally. And so, Miles decided to help, even if Waylon would never know – except that he could, if he was quick.

Miles opened his video camera, recording one last thing: himself. "My name is Miles Upshur. I was the one you contacted. I don't blame you for what happened to me. This is the story of what I saw. Tell it, do not let Murkoff bully you. Stay safe. Stay away. Everyone must know."

He closed the camera, remembering that he left the window of his passenger side door open just a bit.

* * *

Pain was everywhere. From the mostly scabbed over puncture wound on his ankle, to the various ribs that were most likely broken from falls, to the stomach wound that had just been inflicted on him. Even his arms hurt for some reason. They were probably bruised badly. Despite everything aching, Waylon was hobbling as fast as he could out of the front doors of Mount Massive Asylum. Blood covered him from almost head to toe, not all of it his. He struggled past military vehicles as the sun rose above the mountains. He never thought he would see the sun again.

Waylon scrambled into the Jeep that conveniently sat next to the security hut just before the gates. Out of the corner of his eye he noted the press pass hanging from the rear-view mirror, and distantly hoped that the journalist had made it out. Though, since the vehicle was still there... Breathing out, Waylon looked up and noticed the black mass whirling around the courtyard. Picking up his camcorder, he zoomed in to see a figure limping through the mist. No, no, no, too close! Waylon, so near to escape, panicked slightly while fiddling with the keys and the gears. The mist moved closer as the engine roared to life, forced to move rapidly.

And then, so fast, the mist was there. Waylon braced himself, remembering what happened to Jeremy, telling himself that it would be quick, that at least Lisa wouldn't have to worry about his body or remains. He held a picture of his family in his mind, Lisa, the boys smiling as they ate at a picnic table last summer. Death was here.

But then it wasn't, and the swarm was helping him, turning the Jeep around faster than Waylon ever could have, forcing the gates open and practically shoving him off of the grounds.

_You escaped. Tell the story. Keep your family safe. Do not return here_.

Waylon thought he must have been hearing things, but it happened once again.

_Tell my story too_.

Another video camera had appeared on the seat next to Waylon.

* * *

A few weeks passed. Miles was busy keeping the patients from running. They may have been far from any towns or cities, but he felt that the insanity contained here should not be released on the rest of the world. He had also taken care of a few Murkoff forces, trying to turn them back before unleashing the Walrider on the more stubborn ones. He had found an untouched portion of the Admin block and kept an eye on communications online, so he knew when Waylon had posted the video.

A feeling of strong satisfaction swept through him. Justice was coming to Murkoff.

And he would help serve it.


End file.
